


That Night

by MiddleCherryEarth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Fluff, Gen, PTSD, happens somewhere during season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddleCherryEarth/pseuds/MiddleCherryEarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean struggles to have a complete night of sleep since he came back from Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Night

That night Dean couldn’t sleep.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw red and dirt. He could smell mud and grass and blood. If he let himself relax a bit more, he could even feel the tangy taste of iron in his mouth. He felt as if he was choking. Soon, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe anymore and he had to open his eyes and put his feet on the ground. He wasn’t there anymore. He left that place. He survived. None of this was real.

Not anymore

Dean was sat upright, the duvet flung to the end of the bed. He was sweating a lot, his breathing harsh and laboured. The cold air of the motel room was hurting his lungs. He tried to even his breathing out. He was taking short gulps of air. At first it was painful to force his body to cooperate and calm down. It became easier as the minutes passed by. He still had to focus on the rythm. Don’t think about anything. Don’t think about it. Don’t remember. Only think about your breathing. In. Out. In. Then Out. You can do this.

But the dream, the memory was still there, lurking under his skin. It burnt. It was vicious. It wanted out. Dean looked at his hands as if he could see it, see it trying to escape. They were trembling, his hands. He wanted them to stop moving. He had to take control of his own body, dammit ! He was concentrating more and more on his hands, on his breathing.

There was a slight tremor in his fingers. Dean let out a breath. It sounded almost like a cry.

Dean put his head in his hand. He didn’t want to shiver. He didn’t want to struggle to breath. He was free now. He didn’t need all this bullshit. He felt his eyes welling up but he swallowed it back. He was strong. He could do this.

But his voice betrayed him when a small cry left his lips.

\- No, he whimpered. No, no, no.

Dean looked at the grey ceiling, to forbid his tears to fall. It was too late as they were already rolling out his cheeks, soaking his calloused palms. Dean pressed the heel of his hands on his eyes, trying to stop more from spilling. Dean was tired. He was tired, he was trembling and he was crying.

\- You’re such a baby, he sighed. You’re crying like a child. Get a grip, man.

\- Dean ? Is something wrong ?

Startled, Dean raised his head and looked quickly at the other bed, where Sam was. He looked half asleep but he still sit down. He was in his pajamas, those Dean bought the other day as an almost-joke. They were nice, navy blue pajamas. The shirt was a bit tight for his brother but the pants were long enough for Sam, which was a achievement in light of his height. That had motivated Dean to buy them, much to Sam’s complaint. Dean felt a warmth grow in his chest, seeing his baby brother in the clothes he bought him.

\- No, I’m fine Sammy, Dean reassured. Go back to bed.

\- Are you ok, Dean ? You don’t look ok to me, Sam said suspiciously. 

\- I’m fine, I said ! he maintained, avoiding the concerned eyes gazing at him. Dammit Sammy, stop worrying. It’s nothing !

Sam frowned while watching his brother. He was biting his lower lip.

\- This is not « nothing », Dean. It’s been going on for weeks ! Every morning you look like you’ve slept next to nothing. Look at the rings under your eyes ! You look like a zombie. Now tell me, what the hell is going on ? shouted Sam.

Dean was shocked. He thought he was hiding it well, but his brother just revealed the contrary.

\- Don’t look at me like that, Sam sighed. Sorry I yelled. I didn’t mean to. But Dean, please tell me what’s happening to you, he begged.

\- Don’t look at me like that, Sammy ! Dean barked.

He pointed his finger at the other one that was pleading him to talk with his eyes wide open.

\- You don’t get to use the puppy eyes on me. You’re cheating, Dean said sheepishly.

\- I’m not cheating.. I’m just trying to make you talk. I’ve been wanting to ask you for days but it’s impossible to have a conversation with you that doesn’t involve anything but the tablets and Hell ! Since you came back, I-

\- You don’t get to talk about that, Sammy ! Dean roared. You don’t talk about Purgatory ! You don’t know about that place ! You never went there, you didn’t live what I live through, no, you were with your girl, enjoying yourself while I was alone and I-

Dean’s voice quivered and he stopped talking. He was so out of breath that he began seeing little stars at the corner of his eyes. His head was aching, a throbbing pain hurting him. Dean felt a hand on his hand. He looked up to Sam’s face. He could see the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. When did Sammy began to get old ?

\- Dean.

\- Sam.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. The stars in Dean’s eyes were receding.

\- Dean, I swear, you got to help me here. I want you to feel better, but I need you to do that.

\- I don’t want to talk about it, grumbled Dean tiredly.

\- Then you don’t need to talk, granted Sam after a pause. Now move a bit, would you ?

\- What are you doing, Sammy ? asked an alarmed Dean when his little brother pushed him lightly.

\- You need to move over so that I can get into bed with you, dumbass.

Dean made room for Sam but he still looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

\- Hum, Sammy ?

\- Yes, Dean ? sighed a slightly annoyed- sounding Sam.

\- What are you doing ?

\- What do you think I'm doing ?

Dean stayed quiet. He looked at his brother and found him looking back. Sam was in his bed for the first time since high school, since Sam left for Stanford. Since Sam abandonned him.

His face must have done something because the next thing he knew, he was laying down in Sam’s arms.

\- Sammy, wha-

\- Shut up, Dean. Go back to sleep, groaned Sam.

This time, Dean obeyed and shut up. Sam tightened his grip on him and a hand found a way to the back of his head. Fingers were caressing the short hair there, lulling him into a very pleasant state. He could feel Sam’s breath on his cheek. Outside he heard birds, meaning that the sun would rise soon. Still, he closed his eyes.

That night Dean slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in maybe 5 years. I'm a bit nervous about posting actually !
> 
> Thanks to Lucy for beta-reading :) (http://thursdaycastiel.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can follow me: http://middlecherryearth.tumblr.com


End file.
